


Kissing Eternity

by BrokenDoll, Miss_Macabre_Grey



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Demon Deals, Guardian Angels, Loyalty, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-21
Updated: 2014-07-25
Packaged: 2018-01-13 06:20:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1215838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrokenDoll/pseuds/BrokenDoll, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Macabre_Grey/pseuds/Miss_Macabre_Grey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Armin is an angel whose age extends beyond human comprehension, and Eren is a demon spawn who was never meant to exist. Born human, Eren's supernatural nature was forced upon him in a misguided attempt to save his young life. As his assigned guardian, Armin loves Eren and feels loyal to him despite his loss of humanity. Eren does not need to know the true extent of his demonic force; Eren and Armin only need to know that neither can exist without the other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New Eternity Dawns

**Author's Note:**

> They say you should write the story that you need to read. Both Grey and I had specific Eremin needs, so we decided to write them into a story together. We hope you enjoy it. Feel free to leave us your feedback! -Doll

“You are ready," a voice speaks with wisdom and understanding loaded in each simple word. The phrase, however simple, means everything to the eager listener.

Rapt awe consumes the naïve angel as he awaits to hear more. The angel will be given his first assignment after an eternity of anticipation has passed. The Overseer has chosen him at last. Unable to voice his gratitude, the young angel nods his head in acknowledgement to let the intimidating, older entity continue.

"I'm assigning you to a boy. He will need you to guide him, teach him right from wrong, and direct him through the lifelong struggle of his earthbound existence.”

A boy? A human of his own to guide and protect from birth until death. Merely watching a human for a few earth decades is not a simple assignment; caring for the precious life of a human gives an angel a purpose.

“When shall I depart, Overseer?” Confidence swells through his existence at the thought of fulfilling his purpose at long last.

“He will be born within the human hour. I trusted this case specifically to you, and I implore you arrive there immediately. Go unseen until the time is right.”

The angel questions mentally why going unseen would be a stated command, but nods without reply. Angels have unique abilities to assist their work within the Earthly realm, such as invisibility. Often, remaining invisible from humans is ideal because humans can be easily startled by an unexpected presence, but certain circumstances require a physical presence. Making oneself visible to humans typically provides limitations: being caught appearing out of thin air, increased vulnerability, and having to deal with human physical limitations. Many angels never make use of this particular ability, but its mastery is one of the most important qualifications before being granted an assignment. A direct order to remain invisible is unusual, as it tends to be implied.  Such a statement implies that visibility will not only be an available asset; it’s going to be mandatory when the unknown situation arises.

Worries of when the time will arise go unmentioned. He dare not ask questions. The job of a Guardian Angel is to know, which leads him to the conclusion that an answer will come in time. He acknowledges the Overseer's orders with a firm “Understood.”

“Now go. We have finished here.”

The Overseer gives no well wishes or pleasantries; the angel has trained for his job since his creation. If an expression of good luck is necessary, then he would not have been trusted to take responsibility over a human life. Fragility and luck have no place with a spiritual being. Everything relies upon moral strength and guidance. An angels first assignment is their ultimate test; a test which he has no intention of failing.

 

* * *

 

Carla’s frantic screams fade into hushed cries of exhaustion. After suffering quietly through a difficult pregnancy, the excruciating hours in labor grate on her fragile spirit. The woman endured multiple past miscarriages; in truth, neither she or her husband Grisha expected Carla to carry this child to full term.

“You’re at 8cm now. It shouldn’t be much longer.” Grisha has delivered hundreds of babies in his time as a doctor; his experienced eye recognizes the unmistakable signs of a mother’s life fading. The icy temperature of her skin and clouding of her once bright eyes reveal the weariness overtaking her body. He has provided the best possible care, but Carla’s body stopped responding to standard treatments. Each added moment of toil diminishes her chances of living to meet the very son she labors over.

Carla closes her eyes, gritting her teeth against the surging pain of another contraction. An hour ago she would have screamed, but her throat now tightens at the faintest of utterances. Speaking is no longer a possibility at this point; the world around her is fuzzy and growing darker by the second. The medication in her blood is having no effect on the pain, or her erratic heartbeats. “Grisha . . .”

He turns at the near imperceptible whisper of his wife’s voice. She shouldn’t be adding stress to her current situation by forcing words. Then again, she also shouldn’t be giving birth in the first place. “Yes?”

“If I don’t make it—”

Grisha waits, unsure if his wife cannot finish her sentence out of exhaustion or fear of the truth.

“Promise us you won’t take it out on our child.”

The possibility of losing Carla awakens desperation deep in his soul.  “I’m not going to lose you. Not like this!” Childbirth may be natural, but it is far from medically simple; the creation of a new life can easily destroy another.

Carla’s erratic heartbeat speeds up for one final beat before giving out. Her final breath coming as a miserable groan, death is a sweet release. Months of constant agony vanish in a split second.

Grisha stabs a prepared adrenaline shot into dying cardiac muscle in an effort to jumpstart his wife’s now lifeless body. “Carla!” The adrenaline does nothing. CPR would likely fail in relation to the adrenaline failure. Any medical professional would agree that Carla is beyond resuscitation.  Though not without warning, death takes her. Grisha has little time to accept her death before coming to a dark conclusion: he will have to act fast to have any chance of saving the baby.

Carla’s final words echo in his head, “Promise us you won’t take it out on our child.” Her dying wish cannot be in vain.

From a frantic combing of his medical supplies, Grisha produces a scalpel. There is no time to think; every moment his unborn child resides in a lifeless shell, the chances of survival plummet. Without a need for anesthesia, he slices through the cadaver’s distended stomach. Blood pours from hurried incisions, revealing the taut uterine muscle below. He slows to cut the protective muscular cocoon with care until a delicate child appears beneath the gore. Skilled hands free the child from its fleshy prison and slice swiftly through the now useless umbilical cord. A lovely baby boy. Grisha's newborn son enters the cruel world.

Silence.

The absence of a baby's cry disheartens Grisha. His mother had not been dead long enough of deplete his oxygen supply. Had Carla given her life for a stillborn son? No. Upon closer investigation, Grisha witnesses an uneven rise and fall in his son’s chest; he is clearly struggling for each breath, unable to cry. A quick examination discloses further symptoms of concern, most notably, a weak heartbeat.

“I’m not going to lose you both!” Clinging to the fragile baby, Grisha wracks his brain for a medical solution to save his dying child. He has no time for a proper diagnosis, but incorrect treatment could backfire. Options, supplies, and time are limited. No relief comes from his exasperated roars. Carla is gone. Losing his newborn son in the same day, in the same hour, will not be an option.

In his hysteria Grisha stands unfazed by a sudden chill overtaking his home. Sunlight streaming through once bright windows becomes dim and hazy. The world outside of his home seems to be on mute. Only a faint wheeze of a baby's strained lungs can be heard amidst an eerie calm. Nails scratching down a chalkboard would be soothing if compared to the foul, emotionless croak resonating in his ears. “I can give you what you need.”

The voice belongs to an unfamiliar being, but he recognizes its wraithlike quality as demonic and eerie. If the Devil himself spoke of a cruel miracle, Grisha would readily accept regardless of any other moral issue advising him no. Medical science has failed and cost him the love of his life. The youngest member of his damaged family lies dying. Without some intervention, in one day he would end in a mass of dead loved ones. He mentally resolves to take any action necessary if it will at least spare his son. “What do you assume I need?”

Suffering screams manifest in a cold response filling the air, “I can stop your son from dying.”

How is no concern. No risk could be worse than the loss of his newborn son. Grisha welcomes any solution. His response is certain and immediate, “What must I do?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The angel arrives outside a humble mountainside home. Initially, he looks around in surprise by not having arrived at a hospital until he sees a home in the remote location. Nothing hinting at a human population appears near the home for miles; a home birth makes far more sense than driving hours to the nearest medical facility.  His assignment has begun, but a strange sensation plagued his being that tainted the innocence and majesty of feeling a baby's life first born. He knows his connection to the child must already be forming, but he feels somewhat different than expected, almost like a dull pain.

Realization overcomes the spirit: pain. Pain should only occur if something foul happens involving an angel's human care. The Overseer had mentioned the case being urgent. “Did I miss his birth? I must have if we are already connected this way.” Despite being unbound by gravity, he stumbles. Pain does not exist in the heavenly realm; its experience was enough to assure that he never wanted to feel it again.  Regaining balance, the angel makes his way through the door.

Inside, Armin is invisible as he takes in the horrifying sight before him. A young woman lies, split open at the gut, on a blood-soaked table. Next to her, an unconscious man lies on the floor, loosely cradling a screaming baby boy. “He must be my assignment”.

Approaching a distraught child before hearing a familiar, bone-chilling, voice call, “This one is mine. You won’t be needed here.”

“A demon!” All angels encounter demons during their time in the spiritual realm, and the sickening sensation of one's presence is unmistakable.

“What have you done?” His questions go unanswered but the characteristic chill of demonic presence remains. “I don’t see a demon, but I feel it! Where is he hiding?” His attention shoots to the distressed child; the child meant to be under his care. “I can’t be too late. Erwin wouldn’t have sent me if this was hopeless.” The Overseer only assigns Guardian Angels to humans, and his knowledge of all things would prevent assigning a child whose soul had been stolen.

Tenderly picking up the child in question, he gasps in shock. Silence overtakes the room as distraught cries suddenly disappear. Sea green eyes lock with clear, angelic blue orbs.“You . . . you can see me. But that would mean . . . you would have to be . . . that’s not possible.”

Eternal being can see one another. Angelic abilities allow invisibility to humans, but demons require a stronger talent few master. He chose to arrive unseen by humans, which should render him invisible to the baby in his arms. Demons prefer to capture souls, but what if the transformation contract went awry? The baby seemed to keep his soul and a will, but . . . Could a human become a demon? His eyes begin to tear with concern. The only way to know for sure is to assess the state of his soul.

The angel lifts the child to eye level, affectionately touching their foreheads together. The angel shudders at the harsh icy sensation. The baby's soul is tainted; he’s lost his humanity.  “But he still has traces of a soul. He has a chance.” Looking deeper, the angel discovers more within the infant lying before; lacking any other major hints. The angel should see only darkness and ruin, but he sees an irrefutable spark in the baby's eyes. Somewhere, underneath the hatred and death, shines a beautiful, human purity. Breaking the connection, the angel lowers the child to coddle him against his chest.

Everything about his assignment is unusual. A human being transformed into a demon has never happened in the angel's extensive knowledge, but the situation appears dangerous beneath the innocent face of the infant. Unnatural eternal presence can only be bought at a substantial price. Most adults would experience an agonizing death as their soul tears apart. Somehow, the baby has survived. A baby who could not have contracted the deal on his own suffers the consequences, and bravely so. The angel thought back to two forgotten adults. One unconscious and one split open, either could have requested demonic assistance. Disgust fills his thoughts:  _“How dare someone defile an innocent child?”_

“You’re a little fighter, aren’t you?” A delighted coo serves as his answer. He is a demon, but how can something that should be so evil have so much love buried within his soul? He was born a human; maybe some humanity survived whatever demonic ritual had failed. The Guardian Angel had been assigned to guard a human child, but wouldn't a demon require just as much or particularly  _more_ guidance than any human child? With proper care, maybe the remaining shreds of his soul would be strong enough to overcome his demonic nature; the strength of a soul can be varied by nature and trained by will. “I was too late to save you from this fate, but I shall do all I can for you.” Though not a typical case, a Guardian Angel's job meant protecting and loving the human assigned, but the angel will protect the child because he  _knows_  it is the right thing to do. 

“Hello, small one. You may call me Armin, and I am your Guardian Angel. You’re mine, and I’ll always be here to care for you." Armin holds the baby with even more tender care, feeling their connection strengthen with each passing moment. Armin caresses the baby's head, and heard the baby's first laugh. Armin can feel warmth on his lips from the touch despite the otherwise cold connection, and he gains understanding of the baby not even the father knows yet, the child's name. "I will never fail you again, Eren.” 


	2. High Enough to Touch the Sky?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren can be tough to handle sometimes, but Armin does his best to help him navigate daily life.

 

Armin seethes with disapproval at Grisha’s daily routine of leaving for work while an innocent, snoring Eren slept without any acknowledgement or care given. Even in the safest of towns, few sane adults would ever expect a 4-year-old to fend for themselves for any period of time. Most of the neighbors assume Grisha works hard to support his son, but in truth he often uses work as a method of avoiding contact. The sound of locks clicking into place signal to the angel that he would have to provide sole care for Eren for the entire day. Again.

 In the absence of proper parental care, ensuring the availability of regular meals falls under the umbrella of responsibilities regarding a child’s wellbeing. Armin locates milk, eggs, butter, and a multitude of other ingredients between the dwindling refrigerator and sparse pantry. Albeit barely, Armin finds enough ingredients to feed two hungry people, or rather, to feed a gluttonous five-year-old and satiated angel. Armin takes all the ingredients he could find and decides Eren earned cinnamon rolls for a meal. A passing thought of  _“I will have to take care of groceries soon,”_  crosses the angel's mind, but he concentrates his mind on cooking and maintaining his more mature human form.

 Angels require little to nothing to sustain their existences, but Armin still leaves portions for himself when he cooks for Eren to ensure his human form appears healthy with a decent diet. Armin used to worry if Eren would notice his lack of eating and would wonder why Armin never ate like a normal boy should, but in truth the young boy just asked for Armin's share of meals with little regard to what Armin ate. As far as Eren knows or cares, his father always leaves breakfast waiting in the kitchen, and Armin visits to steal food.

 The dough --mixed, kneaded, and shaped-- rests on the counter rising beneath a kitchen towel while Armin considers the day ahead.  _“It looks like the weather will be nice today. Eren has been spending too much time indoors with all the rain lately. I'm sure he’ll want to play outside.”_   Beams of an orange and yellow sunrise shine through the window, illuminating the usually dim kitchen for the first time in days. Gloom and confinement are replaced with freedom and possibilities.  _“Yes. We will definitely be spending this morning at the park.”_  

 Getting Eren out of the house satisfies more than just the boy's amusement. More than a few days of confinement tend to grate on Armin's self-control and ability to tame the half-feral child. Allowing Eren to run and play increases the chance of having a successful day with no injuries nor broken items, nor a dismantled house in general.

 Lifting towel from baking pan, Armin can see his neat rows of rolls have doubled in size. He carefully opens the oven with his left hand to transfer the pan with his right.  25 minutes to go until he can wake Eren to the decadent scent of morning sweets.  Perhaps when he gets a little older, Armin can wake him up to take sweets out of the oven. For now, Eren lacks enough control to be trusted around an oven, and Armin cannot properly assist since needs Eren to see him as a peer.

 Given the constant, direct guidance a case like Eren requires, Armin made the decision early on that he would grow up with Eren as a peer. For many Guardian Angels, physical appearances only happened under special circumstances, but Eren’s entire case is a special circumstance. By his supernatural nature, Eren will always have sight of both angels and demons; Armin would have no invisibility unless he completely avoided the boy, which defeated the point of constantly being near. Armin needed to be present in an inconspicuous manner, and becoming a friend of similar age seemed like the safest plan when he decided how to handle Eren's situation.

Sugary frosting thickens beneath Armin’s spatula; the bowl thuds softly upon a waiting granite countertop in sync with the beeping kitchen timer. Soft oven mitts guide hot cinnamon rolls from oven to table where they begin to cool. With his adult tasks accomplished, Armin takes a deep breath and concentrates on altering his appearance. Despite having never lived through human growth, his visual portrayal of a 4-year-old is impressive with wide blue eyes and shiny blonde hair forming a perfect image of youth.

 

* * *

 

Armin pulls open the familiar wooden door, granting himself entry into Eren’s bedroom, gazing at the precious scene before him: a sleeping child sprawled beneath down pillows, his feet entangled in cotton blankets after a night of disturbed tossing and turning. Elusive sleep overtaking the small boy in a rare moment of peace. A smile sneaks across Armin’s lips as he considers waking a boy with such little calm in his life when he has finally achieved rest a crime. Regardless of how angelic his little demon appears, allowing him to sleep all day would be irresponsible.

 “Eren,” Armin gives a feather light touch to his shoulder, “wake up, it’s morning!”

Muffled groans emanate somewhere below the mountain of pillows.

 “Come on! You have to wake up!”

 “Nooo," Eren whines, peeking a half-lidded eye under one of the cushions to peep at Armin. “We sleep more.” Eren tugs on Armin's shirt with a tiny hand and loose grip to pull the other down, but his sleepy efforts of getting Armin to fall and sleep went to waste.

 The angel shakes his head, fighting back a giggle. “But there are cinnamon rolls!”

 Mentions of sugary breakfast treats fade sleep from Eren’s eyes. “Really?!”

 “Yeah, with frosting! It looks like they’re hot still!” Each word is accentuated by picking up a different pillow and tossing it away, clearing Eren’s sleep cocoon.

 “Fiiiiine. I get up,” Eren yawns; rolling over the side of the bed with no regard for his legs’ blanket entanglement.

 “Careful!” Armin chides, catching Eren just before he hits the floor with a grin.

 “CINNAMON ROLL, CINNAMON ROLL, CINNAMON ROLL!” Eren’s exuberant chants continue while the blond boy disentangles his kicking feet from cotton sheet imprisonment. “CINNAMON ROOOOOLLS!” Finding himself now able, Eren kicks away the loosened covers, breaking into a run. “Come on, Armin! Cinnamon rolls!”

Loosely folding discarded blankets, Armin places them on the bed before following suite. Eren’s energy knows no bounds, even if he has a tendency to regard waking up with distaste; thankfully, he is young enough that he has never thought to question how his best friend always manages to be in the otherwise empty house to wake him up. Mornings never fail to be interesting.

 Armin’s relaxed shuffle guides his feet back into the kitchen in time to witness his demon child slathering handfuls of thick frosting atop a fresh pastry. “Use a spoon, Eren.”

 Flashing a toothy grin, Eren removes his hand from the bowl; taking a final scoop and placing it directly in his mouth while reaching blindly for slathered pastry with his free hand. Armin concentrates on slowly separating a roll from the pan in a vain attempt to distract himself from Eren’s adorably childish display; dribbling globs of frosting down his face and nightshirt with each bite. This shouldn’t be so cute, but smears of frosting across his face give the demon a sparkle of innocence in the angel’s eyes. Cinnamon rolls have almost no nutritional value, but Armin knows he will continue making them as long as Eren continues looking so adorable shoveling them into his mouth.

 Armin enjoys his morsels slowly, only reaching halfway through a single roll as Eren tears through a fourth. Thank goodness he had found sufficient ingredients for a batch sizable enough to support such a ravenous appetite.

 Chewing leisurely, Armin swallows another delicate bite; “Hey, Eren, how about we go to the park after breakfast?”

 A muffled “Mmmm!” is the most satisfactory response his stuffed mouth can manage until swallowing. “YEAH! PARK!” Leaping from his chair, excitement fills the room. “We go now!”

 Pushing his chair back against the kitchen table, Armin stands. “You have to get dressed first, silly. There’s more frosting on your shirt than most of the cinnamon rolls!”

 Eren grabs at the lower hem of his nightshirt, pulling it out slightly to examine his handiwork. Fluffy globules and white trails smudge blue material in a design of confectionary chaos. “Look, Armin! I’m breakfast!”

 Laugher erupts between both boys as Eren grips a fistful of fabric between his teeth, pretending to consume it with the same exuberance as his actual breakfast. “Come on, Eren. Let’s get you dressed before somebody tries to eat you!”

 

* * *

 Traversing a familiar path to Shinganshina Park requires only 8 short minutes of walking from the Yeager home. Eren’s attempts to run from his doorway are immediately thwarted by Armin grabbing his hand; threading determined fingers around those of the eager child. His iron grip manages to slow their journey from desperate sprinting to a relatively normal walking pace. Eren continues jumping up and down in excitement as their hands intertwine. “Park time!”

 Thank goodness today’s weather has cleared so he can run off all this pent up energy. “Yes, Eren. We can stay all day if you want.”

“You’ll play with me?” Wide seafoam eyes inquire as if there was reason to worry. Despite having spent every day together since birth, Eren often shows fear of losing him for even a moment; an undeniable possessive spark always underscoring his anxiety at the idea of Armin ever leaving his side. 

“Of course, silly!” Free hand ruffling brunet hair, Armin diffuses all tension before it has opportunity to escalate anywhere dangerous. “I’ll even push you on the swing.”

 “High enough to touch the sky?”

 Armin gazes up at the vast blue expanse above them before responding, “High enough to touch the sky and leap into the clouds.”

 The rest of their walk continues in silence until Shinganshina Park finally rolls into view. Armin releases Eren’s hand, allowing him to run the remainder of the way. Following behind at his own pace allows time for him to enjoy the parks overall atmosphere. Trees from the surrounding forest encircle the wide clearing containing beautiful walking paths, a vast sandbox, and an impressive variety of playground equipment: polished swings, an old see-saw, chrome monkey bars, slides, and more. For a small town with little entertainment, the park is well maintained as a safe haven for the numerous children.

 Eren dashes immediately to his favorite swing, sitting down kicking his feet in vain until Armin catches up. “I can’t do it by myself,” he pouts.

 “That’s what I’m here for, remember?” Taking his habitual stance behind the swingset, the angel pushes softly against the demons back.

 Airborne, if only by a few inches, he squeals. “Look, I’m flying!”

 “Yes, you are!” As an angel, Armin has experienced flight many times throughout his existence. Memories of stretching his wings in the sun and soaring over air fill his mind. He would give anything to take young Eren into his arms and share with him the experience of actually flying. But that is impossible, especially under these unusual circumstances; it would be unwise to reveal his complete identity. He must remain a human companion in the eyes of the young boy. Even if that means denying simple things that could brighten the crucial spark of joy in his otherwise dark existence. Shaking his head to dismiss such unpleasant thoughts, he pushes the child higher.

 Time passes without need for measurement. Armin pushes tirelessly, allowing Eren to enjoy the wind in his hair and sun on his face. Pushing eventually slows when the angel realizes the park is no longer their private play place. Another angel is traversing the concrete path with his own toddler in toe. Eren fails to notice their imminent arrival save for his significant loss of swing height. “How come you aren’t pushing no more?”

“Your friends are here!”

 The child’s mope-y scowl only intensifies at his angel’s explanation. “Armin is my best friend.”

 “Yes, but you see me every day. Don’t you want to say hi to Jean and Marco?”

“No.” What Eren lacks in social skills he certainly makes up for in stubbornness.

While his feelings for his friendship with Armin are strong, he has trouble interacting with anyone else. Armin is familiar. Anyone else is an outsider in his eyes.  

Aware of the familiar routine that is about to play out, Armin summons his every ounce of patience for the ensuing discussion. “Aw, why not?”

“I don’t like Jean.”

“Come on, Jean likes you.” Smiling becomes increasingly difficult for the angel as he tries to stifle laughter at Eren’s reactionary expressions.

“He has a horse face.”

“Eren, that’s not very nice.”

“Jean’s not nice.”

Armin’s patience is waning, but he does his best to hide it from the difficult child. “Jean’s not so bad. It seems like you’re the one being mean."

“No.”  Eren crosses his arms in absolute refusal. Eren's stubbornness against socializing was not cute before at every other social interaction, and it is not cute now.

“How about a compromise?” The child stays silent, but he does look up in acknowledgement, signaling to continue the proposal. “What if you just play with Marco for a while? I can play with Jean so you don’t have to talk to him."

Eren looks down at his shoes swaying from the no longer airborne swing, toes not quite touching the ground below. “You’ll stay close?”

“I’ll be near enough for you to see me.”

“It will make Armin happy for me to play with other friends?”

“Very happy.”

“Promise not to leave me.” Extending his hand, the child holds out an insistent pinky finger until his playmate returns the promising gesture.

“I promise. I’ll stay nearby and we will play together again in a little while.”

Visibly apprehensive, the child does eventually relent.

“Well . . . okay, but just for a few minutes.”

Thankfully their tiring exchange winds down by the time their new company approaches. Eren hops down from his swing, grabs a Marcos’s wrist while the boy remains unsuspecting, and begins pulling him away.  “We go to sandbox.”

“Eren!” Armin scolds, “Don’t be rude!”

Eyes rolling, he makes a second attempt at communication: “We go to sandbox, please?” Nothing in his tone suggests this is a request, but at least he made some improvement over nonconsensual dragging.

Wide-eyed, his dark haired victim appears terrified, turning to his companion for some sort of help. “Jean?”

“It’s okay. Play with Eren, I’ll be right here.” The words barely escape his mouth before dragging resumes.

Armin waits until the boys are safely out of earshot, in the sandbox, before directly addressing his fellow angel.  “I am so sorry. We are trying to work on social manners. Eren is just really uncomfortable around people he doesn’t see every day.”

“It’s okay, I understand. The devil child won’t learn if he can’t interact with normal kids, right?”

Even knowing it was meant to be harmless, the epithet strikes a nerve. “My Eren is human, Jean.”

Jean gives a sympathetic smile, but Armin can still see the seriousness of his face as he speaks. “It isn’t worth lying to yourself. You can see as well as I can that he is a demon. What is the point of pretending his humanity is dominant?”

“As long as he has a soul, he is human enough. I will do anything I can to teach him how to overcome his demonic nature.”

Both angels take a seat on the swings, continuing their conversation while maintaining clear sight of their children. “Look, Armin, I didn’t mean anything by that. I know you are trying your best. Everyone says it’s normal for a first assignment to be challenging and you got saddled with the most extreme possible circumstance.”

A deep sigh escapes from the exasperated blond. “I try so hard with him, I really do, but sometimes he can be such a handful.”

“He does seem to be making progress. At least he didn’t try to bite me this time!”

Laughing, Armin remembers Eren’s initial reaction to meeting the other angel. He had been less than a year old on the day Armin placed him in Jean’s arms for a quick reprieve. Unfortunately, the baby began crying, screaming, and kicking, arms reaching desperately towards Armin. Jean’s attempts at soothing irate Eren just caused further screaming until lifting the child over his shoulder to pat gently on his back. Having only four teeth had in no way prevented Eren from giving his best attempting at tearing into the flesh at Jean’s shoulder. “Yeah, we are past that stage.  Now he screams actual words and punches before biting.”

Jean releases a nervous snigger before a carefully considered response. “I’d offer to help, but I’m pretty sure he hates me being around.”

“I’m sure he’ll warm up to you eventually.”

He shakes his head, far less optimistic about the situation than Armin. “At least he’s alright with Marco.”

Both angels take the opportunity to watch their charges interacting in the sandbox. Marco appears to have calmed down while Eren smiles with him, and and the two boys look so happy building miniature sandcastles with the slightly-wet sand from the previous day's rain. No terrified screaming. No unexplained blood spatter. No bruises forming on either one. For Eren, this is a picturesque example of proper social interaction.

“They do play very well together. I love playing with Eren, but thank goodness the rain stopped so he could go outside today. I was going crazy keeping him in the house by myself.”

“You seriously kept him inside for the whole storm?” Disbelief colors his face.

“All four days of it,” comes the deadpan response.

“How are you even alive?”

“The perks of being an eternal being. When he was overexcited and found scissors, I only wished I was dead.”

Angelic eyes widen. “He didn’t attack you, did he?”

“What? Oh, no, not me. Just some curtains and one unfortunate couch cushion. He may be a wild child, but he would never hurt me unless, you know, a genuine accident happened.”

Jean releases a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “If he’s too much to handle, I’m sure Overseer would understand—”

“No.” Armin cuts him off, having no desire to hear the completed thought. “He’s mine, and I can handle him. Some days are challenging, but that’s okay because there are good days too. Deep down, there is so much good inside of him; it may be buried deep, but it is there and in plenty. I will  _never_ give up on Eren.”

Jean cannot help his admiration for Armin’s determined loyalty. Even with a hopeless assignment hanging over his head. “I’ll tell you one thing, if there’s any hope for him it’s probably with you.”  

“Thanks.” Amin glances once again at his child in the sandbox. Seeing Eren play so peacefully with Marco is the shot of hope he needs so desperately. “I worry sometimes that he’s only good with me, but days like today show progress.”

“Should we let them continue or did you want to go check on him?”

“I kind of don’t want to ruin the moment if he’s getting along with another human.”

For once, Jean does not make a jab at Eren’s questionable humanity, instead electing to nod in complete understanding. “You think it’ll last?”

Armin shrugs. “It’s been, what, 10 minutes, maybe?  That’s a record already—EREN, NO!” Hurdling off the swing, he loped toward the sandbox where Eren’s foot rests firmly in the ruins of what had been Marco’s castle.

“What?” Eren cocks his head sideways, frowning when he realizes that his actions have upset Armin. Marco, on the other hand, begins building a new castle adjacent to the ruins, completely unphased.

“You do not kick other people’s sandcastles over!”

Genuine confusion overtakes the young brunet. “It was in my way!”

“That doesn’t matter! How would you feel if I kicked yours?”

Lip quivering, moisture pools at Eren’s eyes. “But . . .” He doesn’t seem to understand why Armin is upset, only registering an apparent threat to his own gritty sand structure. “I work hard on my castle! Please don’t destroy it!” 

Blue eyes soften with sympathy. “Eren, come here.” Arms widen to soothe the distressed child with a hug. Eren accepts the embrace, sniffling back threatening tears. “You were very rude to Marco and you need to apologize, okay?”

Armin releases Eren from their embrace but keeps his hands planted firmly on the child’s shoulders until he rubs his eyes with an almost silent, “Okay . . .”

With a smile, the angel fully lets go with an encouraging pat. “Go on.”

The demon stares momentarily at the freckled boy constructing a new castle at his feet, mumbling “'M real sorry, Marco. I thought it would be okay to knock it down, but I guess it's not. I won't do it again unless you say I can, I guess."

Marco smiles, and Armin knows the little boy knew a lot about kindness. “It’s okay. I’ll make this new one even better than the last one! Maybe when you feel better we can build one together.”

"Yeah! Me and you'll have the best castles," Eren says with a chipper enough tone, but the bad feelings in his gut reflected on his face.

Satisfied with the treatment of his assignment, Jean kneels beside Marco to see his work. “This looks great, Marco! Nice job!”

Armin considers how to handle Eren becoming increasingly agitated with the combination of Jean’s presence and having recently been forced to make an apology. 

“Eren, would you like to go home?” Armin asks while waking away from Jean and Marco, hand in hand.

Eren pauses, but shakes his head. “Can we swing again first?”

Nothing can explain the calming effect swing sets seem to have on Eren, but it always seems to be somehow soothing. “Sure, let’s do that.”

Another half hour of swinging through the air helps Eren to work off some of his frustration. By the time he jumps out of the swing chair, the boy is no longer upset. “Come on, Eren. Let’s start heading back to the house.”

Surprisingly, little protest follows the request. Eren quickly settles into a walking pace at Armin’s side along a concrete path leaving the park.  “I had fun.”

“Good” Armin smiles. “Did you enjoy seeing friends?”

“Yeah. Friends are fun. Marco's so nice to me. I was good?”

“You did fine, Eren. I’m very proud of you.” After exiting the circle of trees surrounding Shinganshina Park the concrete path morphs into a dirt trail beside the main road.

“Yay! Armin is proud!” It takes almost as little to make Eren happy as it does to upset him.

Shuffling through dirt, the boys have almost reached the fork in the road where they should turn towards home when two unfamiliar voices call out to them.

“Hey!”

“Wait up!”

Armin intends to continue walking, but decides to stop after turning and realizing the sources to both voices appear to be around their age. One is sporting short blonde hair extending surprisingly long into sideburns for such a young child, and the other has thin brown hair trimmed close to his head. "Um, who are you guys?”

The blonde newcomer speaks first. “We saw you on our way to the park. I’m Thomas, and this is Franz.”

Franz adds a friendly “Hi” at the mention of his name.

“Um . . . hi. I'm Armin.” Armin mentions while unsure of what else to say. “So, what did you need?”

Eren stands silent behind Armin, refusing to acknowledge the unwelcome interruption to the walk home with his best friend.

“Well, you looked around our age, and we noticed your bowl cut!” Golden eyes shining, he smiles and gestures towards said hairstyle.

The angel tilts his head, looking at Thomas in confusion. “My . . . bowl cut?”

“Yeah!” Franz enthusiastically interjects. “It means we should definitely be friends.”

“We should! My hair is kind of funny looking, but, I mean, your hair is even worse than mine!”

“Leave him alone!” Eren spits venomously at Thomas, deciding he has heard enough.

Hands fly up in a defensively. “Hey! I’m not trying to be mean or anything. I just mean we have something in common!”

“You can't walk up to a stranger and says his hair looks funny! Have you seen yourself? I don't even know what those caterpillars on the side of your head are, but they are ugly!”

Thinking, _“This is really bad,”_ Armin reaches out, placing his right hand on the fuming child’s left shoulder. “Eren, calm down, it’s okay.” Redirecting his gaze to Thomas and Franz, he adds “It’s fine, I understand what you mean. Sorry about all this. Let’s be friends”

“Don’t apologize! They’re the ones who should apologize! Did you hear what they said?”

All signs point to another hopelessly escalated situation. Nothing can be done at this point unless Eren listens to reason. Not likely. _“Great. I finally had him calm and this happens.”_

 “Listen to your friend, kid. We just wanted to introduce ourselves.”

Infuriated Eren launches himself at Thomas, fists flying; he manages to land a few punches on the stunned boy before Franz knocks him from the side; elbow cracking hard against his mouth.

Clutching his throbbing jaw, Eren backs away from his challengers and into Armin. Their deep connection sends shockwaves of the demons agony through his angel who wraps him in a protective embrace before addressing their confused acquaintances. “I’m so sorry, guys. He isn’t always like this. He just has a hard time with unfamiliar people. Especially if he thinks the people are hurting me at all.”

Franz looks back and forth between Armin and Eren. “I noticed. Jeez, sorry we bothered you.”

Thomas shakes his head, regaining equilibrium after the unexpected assault. “Look, Armin, was it? We just wanted to introduce ourselves, but it looks like your friend isn’t interested.”

“It’s Armin, yes. I’m so sorry, Thomas, are you alright?” Genuine concern coats each word, giving the other blonde a quick once-over without letting go of Eren.

“I’m fine, but we’re gonna go. Maybe we’ll run into each other sometime without the crazy guy.”

_“Eren is not crazy!”_  hums through his mind, but he does not bother to defend Thomas’ accusations out loud as he and Franz stride away towards Shinganshina Park. Frozen on the dirt path, the angel loosens his grip to evaluate his child’s condition.

“Are you okay?” The young demon’s eyes cast down in the dirt, refusing to meet Armin’s compassionate gaze. “Eren?” He softly cups the child’s swelling jaw, lifting it to face to himself despite downcast eyes. “Eren, look at me please.”

Their eyes meet and the injured brunet opens his sore mouth to speak. “I’m—fine” he grimaces, tonguing the impacted portion of his mouth to survey the damage.

“Are you sure? That looked like a really tough blow.”

“My tooth feels kinda loose.” Refocusing his tongue on the unfamiliar wiggle, Eren’s eyes widen; he feels solid enamel separating from soft gums with a noiseless pop. Spitting blood and saliva onto his palm, Eren shrieks at the sight of a tooth in his hand. “Oh my God, Armin, it fell out! What-do-I-do, what-do-I-do, what-do-I-do?!”

If he is honest with himself, he has absolutely no idea how to handle this situation aside from following his essential instinct: calm Eren down. Shifting attention between bloody hand and hysterical face, Armin remains outwardly calm. “It’s okay. We can take care of this.”

“What if I can never eat again?”

“It’s one tooth; I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

“What if the rest of them fall out too!” Frenetic crying suggests that this conversation is not having its desired calming effect.

“Shh, take a breath. Do any others feel loose?”

Eren scrunches his face while gingerly testing each of his teeth. “No more.”

Relief washes over Armin’s entire being. “Good. None of the others are going to fall out.”

“But what do I do about this?” The panic stricken child lifts his blood smeared hand to show his missing tooth once again.

“Well . . . do you want to see if my dad can fix it?”

Angels clearly are not capable of having actual human parents. Most would alter their human appearance as necessary to take care of whatever circumstances require pseudo parental intervention.

However, since Eren is able to see him at all times, this method is not an option for Armin’s assignment. Given this case’s unusual circumstances, the Overseer had agreed from the beginning to act as Armin’s father in rare circumstances where such presence is required. Armin does not prefer making use of this option unless he absolutely must, but at this point it seems to be the only logical option.

“If you think he can help.”

“Alright, let’s go.” Grabbing the child’s non-bloodied hand, Armin resumes their walk, new destination in mind. He spiritually communicates to the Overseer that his presence is required, cutting off contact before dwelling on his own worries. _“He is going to kill me for letting him get hurt.”_

Armin’s house lies along the same street as Eren’s. Were the woods less dense, it would be possible to wave at each other from their respective front yards. Passing Eren’s home, two additional nondescript residences, and crossing the street, the boys arrive at their destination. The home's true owner is an older man who only occupies it during the spring months. As far as Eren knows, this man is Armin’s grandfather. Thankfully, the man had left weeks ago when crisp fall winds first began blowing. For the time being, only Armin and the Overseer inhabit the home, the Overseer acting as a father-figure for Armin's preformance of being a semi-normal child.

The wooden door opens beneath Armin’s first timid knock, revealing a waiting Overseer's human persona inside. The tall blond man's gaze unsettles Armin as he lays eyes between the two boys at his porch. “Welcome home, Armin. Eren, what happened? You’re a little young to be losing teeth.”

Shuffling in, Armin pushes the door closed behind them as Eren recounts his tale of valor.

“Well, you see, we were coming home from the park when these two guys snuck up behind us!”

Armin decides not to point out that the boys actually arrived from their front view and had been nothing but friendly. The Overseer already knows everything, no reason not to allow Eren to enjoy his version of events.

“They started picking on Armin and saying all kinds of awful stuff, so I told them real serious that they better stop it because nobody makes fun of my best friend!”

Again, not exactly how it happened but a vague shade of the truth is somewhat present.

“Mhm, go on," the adult figure acknowledges.

“Okay, so it went like this, Mr. Erwin: they grab Armin, right? And I had to defend him!” He extends the ‘a’ in ‘had’ to emphasize his actions utter necessity. “I started hitting the guys. BAM! I got ‘em good! But before they ran away one of them hit me once too. I was totally fine except my jaw really hurt and one tooth was kinda loose, and then it fell out so I spit it in my hand.”  Eren lifts his bloody hand as evidence before concluding with “and that is what happened. I just want to make sure my other teeth aren’t gonna all fall out.”

Erwin flashes a stern we-will-talk-about-this-later look of disapproval at Armin before softening his features in a warm smile to towards Eren. “Injured defending your friend, huh? And you fought them both off?”

“Yep!” Eren’s chest swells with pride. “You should have seen the other guys! This battle scar is nothing!” Eren boasts while holding out his tooth more. 

“Well, I can’t say that I approve of the fighting, but that was very brave of you to defend my son. Let’s have a look at those teeth.” Erwin lifts the young demon on the granite countertop without effort. Peering into the child’s open mouth, everything else appears to be firmly in place. The empty space in his gums has stopped bleeding and no additional wounds appear.

Open mouthed Eren attempts his most important question, “Aa I unna iheb?”

Taking a moment to interpret the impaired speech, the Overseer smiles and rests a comforting hand firmly on the child’s shoulder when he understands. “You can close your mouth now. Yes, you’re going to live.”

“My other teeth won’t fall out . . . right?”

“Not today. Your missing one will even grow back in time, although it may be a couple of years since you are so young. Everyone loses their baby teeth eventually so new, adult ones can come in. At some point all of your teeth will fall out but not today. You have no need to worry.”  He picks the child back up in order to return him to the ground. “Now, how about you go wash that blood off in the washroom and start thinking about a safe place to keep that tooth?”

Eren nods. “Okay. Thank you!" The young boy then scampers away to follow instructions.

Alone in his presence, the angel can sense the Overseer’s human form staring wordlessly. “I know, I know.”

“Do you? How is it that you could not stop him from starting a fight walking home?”

His words sting only because they are painfully accurate. “I’m doing my best; he is just really agitated from being stuck in the house so much.”

The Overseer gives an exasperated sigh. “I could have removed you from the assignment when his soul was compromised, but I didn’t. I am trusting you with this assignment because you are capable of handling it.”

“I can handle him!”

“But have you seen the proof of that claim?” Erwin retorts, not in a yell, but in a voice so deep and looming that it echoes in Armin's human-like skull nonetheless.

Armin tilts his head down, eyes cast to the floor. “I've seen a lot of bad, and-and . . . so much good.” Armin huffs and standa as tall as he can in childish body. “Eren didn't start the fight for the fun of hurting others; he did it because he didn't want me to feel pain. He's <I>good</I>, but he's still learning how to behave well. That's it.”

“Do you really think ‘that's it’ would help you win this argument? Armin, you're one of the wisest angels I've ever seen, especially considering your relative youth. Don't let him pull you down because you're growing too weak to rise above.”

“I understand,” Armin wants to say more, to add the "but" to his words with an explanation, but what can he really add?

“You know, summer will end soon. He'll be starting kindergarten in less than two days. How will be he ready to handle a school environment in that time? Do you really trust him with all those other students?”

“I do. He's going to do great things. It'll take a little bit of adjustments, but he can do just fine. He'll know a few kids there like Marco and Jean, and more importantly I'll be there to make him feel safe. So long as he feels safe, he's sweet and good and wonderful. He's not needlessly spiteful or hurtful.”

“Jean and Marco have no duties to Eren. He should learn to behave despite circumstances.” The overseer's hard blue eyes soften at last, and Armin feels a twinge of hope. “I still trust you, and more importantly, I trust <I>Eren</I>. I have precautions set up so that Eren should be at ease when school starts. All things considered no child at five behaves well under pressure, and that sort of moral understanding and physical control doesn't exist in plenty of adults. With more effort and guidance, Eren will become a truly great-”

“Armin, Armin, Armin!” Eren calls out as he runs to the blond from the hallway. Little hands clutch a tiny sac, and hold it out for Armin to see.

“My, you found something already? I think that'll be just perfect for the tooth fairy, don't you think, Armin?” Erwin asks with a smile genuine enough for a five-year-old, but questionable to Armin.

“Of course. Eren found it, so it has to be good.” The brunet shies at the words. Armin grabs Eren's hands and stands beside his friend. “Uh, dad, can I walk Eren to his house? We need to put it under the pillow before we forget.”

“Yes, but be home by dinner time. Now go take care of that for the tooth fairy. Eren, I don't think you understand it, so let Armin explain during the walk. You're welcome to eat with us if your father doesn't come from work on time.”

“Thanks, Mr. Erwin, sir!” Eren sputters. The small brunet stood three feet shorter than the man, and he often made efforts to behave around him. That, and Armin told Eren his dad was in the military and could kill someone just by looking at him (which is only half a lie, in Armin's defense).

Armin and Erwin chuckle while Eren makes himself more flustered. Soon, though, Armin squeezes Eren's hand a bit to remind him they need to leave. The two boys step outside and begin their walk, silent at first, until Eren's curiosity takes control.

“So what _is_ a tooth fairy? Doesn't sound so great to me.”

“Well, she's a fairy that collects the teeth of children. When you lose a tooth, she takes it and leaves a little bit of money behind. The trick is that the tooth has to be under your pillow when you sleep.”

“Well, that doesn't sound fair. I'd rather have my tooth than a dollar.” Eren pouts, but in a more lighthearted way than usual, and Armin melts at the sight of it.

“Don't think that way. If nothing else, I'd like a dollar. You can give it to me to make me happy.”

“You'd be happy with a dollar?” Eren asks. The half-demon scrunches his face in a way that tells Armin he is trying to think. “Making Armin happy is worth like a bazillion teeth. I guess this isn't so bad. What do you do with a dollar though?"

Armin's smile twists into a noticeable smirk. A pale finger rises to his lips while Armin gives a wink. “You'll see soon. You won't even get the dollar until tomorrow, but it'll be a surprise for both of us.”

Eren's eyes light up at the word surprise. The brunet rarely gets treats, so the idea of a special gift from Armin lifts the last of his doubts away. “For us? For _me_?”

“Of course! But I can't get it until after tomorrow, which is our first day school.”

Eren groans at the mention of school; he wants to play all day with Armin at his side, not be around a bunch of other kids learning blending stuff. “Don't tell me anymore. You'll just try to tell me I only get the surprise if I behave.”

Eren hits the nail on the head, and Armin makes a sheepish expression in response. “Well, I don't have to say it if you already made the offer.”

The second groans is louder than the first and must more disappointed, but Eren makes no real protest or agreement. The two just walk to Eren's home to prep for the tooth fairy visit. Armin waits with Eren while they watch tv for a time, waiting for Eren's father to return home. When 6:30 comes without any sign of Grisha Jäger, The two trudge back to Armin's home. Eren smiles most of the way, but Armin can see the anger.

“Welcome back,” Erwin greets despite it being bittersweet to the two children. “I made your favorite, Eren,” he adds.

Armin realizes that the omniscient being knew what would happen, and he thanks Erwin for being so thoughtful. In moments where the Overseer protects him and Eren like such, Armin thinks he really is his dad, and that Eren really is his best friend, instead of their being his boss and his duty respectively.

Eating for the first time without a tooth unnerves Eren, but the three laugh and tell stories like a real family during dinner. When they finish their meal, they settle into the living room so that Erwin can read exciting stories to Eren and Armin. Most of the tales come from Armin's fairy tale books, and despite reading them to Eren dozens of times already, the brunet engrosses himself in the fantastical words.

Eren reaches for Armin, holding the blond tight, and starts to doze off on the smaller boy's shoulder. Neither Armin nor Erwin plan to wake him, and Armin feels comfortable enough to sleep as well. Erwin grabs a blanket from the closet and tucks it under the two sleeping boys. Armin's brows furrow down in his sleep, and his expression  remains stoic, but Eren grins and holds Armin tightly. Erwin tries to call Eren's father about his son's location around 8, but the ringer goes to voicemail, and he leaves a brisk message of explanation if the other bothers to listen. For having no parental guidance or many friends, Erwin admits the calmly sleeping boy has shown great potential to be human from the efforts he's made on his own and with Armin already.

Erwin changes his mind about Eren at that moment; he no longer thinks Eren can become a moral and caring soul; he knows it. 

* * *

Armin awakens a breath before dawn all alone in his bed. The angel set his alarm to ring much later, but when the blue eyes opened to see the start of day then the blond knew they would not close. Eren and he spent the entire day after their sleepover enjoying their last day of summer before school, but they could not have a sleepover two nights in a row. Nothing exciting happened other than Eren finding  _two_ dollars under his pillow, and Armin shot Erwin a crooked glance when they found the money; he specifically told Eren the tooth had to be under his pillow when the tooth was under it, and Armin found the money under him that morning.

Still, Eren gave Armin the money without question or hesitation. Armin and Eren spent the entire day together lounging in Armin's house or playing outside. Eren had to go back to his house late afternoon, so Armin aged his appearance to go to the store for Eren's surprise.

Armin came home to Erwin cooking dinner, but the small blond disliked the idea of enjoying a meal while Eren stayed at his home, eating a TV dinner and while mindlessly sitting in front a tv alone. Still, Armin continued his night with a quick shower and some reading of proper kindergarten behavior before bed.

After a recalling the fairly mundane last day of summer, Armin untangles himself from his sheets, more than willing to start a day of excitement and Eren. Erwin stays sleeping while Armin brushes his knotted hair and stinky teeth. The sooner he readies himself, the sooner Armin can go awaken the young boy for his special first day. Kindergarten may not count as a true grade, but Armin thinks of it as a rite of passage for Eren from the five years of solitude and repetition.

Armin brushes his human-like hair and dresses in the outfit he prepared. First days of school matter to most kids and their parents, so Armin requested Erwin take him and Eren to school to take pictures, look excited, and act like the general "proud dad." Eren deserves to have pictures and memories of his first day. Erwin left a message on Grisha's phone the previous night to remind him to at least prepare an outfit for Eren, and Armin hopes the man listened. Armin used to sympathize with Eren's father when Eren was an infant and Grisha tried to care for his baby, but as Eren grew Grisha's presence shrunk. Armin expects that Grisha forgot Eren's first day of school.

Armin hears a knock on his door. Erwin steps in after a fair wait smiles at Armin. “You don't look nervous at all.”

“I just expect a lot of good things for today.” Armin shrugs before tucking in the hem of his white button-up shirt. “Did you charge the camera? We have to make this good. Eren needs to feel normal and have something to see. We don't even have any baby pictures, so this'll be one of the few he can hold in the future to feel like he was a real kid.”

“Are you mothering me?” Erwin asks, his tone humored and curious. “You do realize you're a rookie angel, whereas I'm infinite being who can make water to lava and the clouds into marshmallows if I wanted.”

“You didn't answer my question. You forgot to put it on the charger, didn't you?” Armin exasperates. Small lips quiver while Armin worries what else they could use.

“I baked you breakfast,” Erwin offers as a consolation. “Besides, I already willed them charged.”

Armin glares at his boss for a moment. A moment passes, but Armin releases his breath and nods. “I'll eat at Eren's house. We need to wake him up and get him ready if we want to go to school on time.”

Erwin packs their breakfast while Armin packs his backpack with supplies. The two use less than three minutes to finish and meet at the front door.

“Would you like me to take the car?” Erwin asks.

“We’d have to take it to make it on time. Walking would be an extra 25 minutes. We can walk home though.” Armin reaches one of his tiny hands to open the door and inhales a deep breath. “Well, c’mon. Time to see if Eren’s even awake yet!”

Erwin wonders why Armin chose his appearance for a human form. Those little, scrawny legs running to the car look like they would collapse from Armin’s own weight if used for more than a minute. Luckily, Armin reaches the car on the driveway and shuffles his tiny form inside. Erwin steps in after him and wonders how he's lasted an eternity without ever having to play dad before, and grateful he predicts none of his other angels getting into such an unusual situation.

* * *

 Armin is first to notice no car in Eren's driveway. Either Grisha left early, or he never came at all. Both Armin and Erwin scowl at the thought. With no human be wary of, Armin decides to just step inside while Erwin goes in to set up breakfast.

“Eren?” Armin calls into the dreary home. With few pictures on the walls or personal decorations on any of the sparse furniture, the house qualifies as more of an inhabitance than a home. 

Armin walks down the hall leading to Eren's room, and he can hear the faint snores of the child. “Eren, time to start school,” Armin coos while he gives Eren a gentle shake.

 “Nmynminim!” Eren swatted a hand in the air, but the tired gesture only made him more lethargic.

 “Eren, time to wake up. We're going to have a lot of fun today, but you have to wake up first.” Armin shakes Eren again, putting a little more force into it that is coincidentally all the force he can muster. “Eren, my dad made breakfast. Eggs and pancakes and everything else you like.”

 “Mmn! B-but sleep,” Eren mumbles as he rolls over. “Five more minutes?”

 Armin smiles at the cliché response but shakes his head. “We can't. The food's already getting cold, and we need to find you something to wear. Hurry out of bed already, you bum.” Armin pokes Eren's cheek for emphasis.

 “Fine, but I'm still tired,” Eren grumbles while he rolls out of bed -- quite literally because he knows falling out is the only way to snap him awake.

 “Heh. Okay, now go to the kitchen. I'll join you after I pick out an outfit.” Armin wished Grisha had the decency to plan something for his son, but the blond accepted the neglect long ago. At least Armin knew everything in the house and managed to find clothes scattered around fast.

 Armin first grabs a white button-up, but feels it looks to similar to his own. Eren should have a separate identity from Armin, not to mention white would again instantly. With more searching through the clothes, Armin grabs jean shorts and a Hulk t-shirt.

 Eren and Erwin wait for Armin before starting to eat. The moment the smallest of the trio sits, Eren engulfs his meal in a few big, though satisfied, bites. Armin avoids looking at Eren while he eats because the messy sight makes the blond lose his appetite. Still, Armin has half his plate left, and Eren needs to hurry.

 “Why don't you brush you teeth now that you've finished eating. When you're done you can put on whatever Armin picked out for you,” Erwin suggested as he cut the last portion of his pancake.

 “Mm. Yes, sir. I still don't wanna go to school though.”

 Eren trots away, and Eren turns to Armin. “He's certainly starting off peacefully enough. I can name plenty of children who fight going to school much more violently then he is.”

 “Yeah,” Armin replied with an airy breath. “He's going to do great.” 

* * *

Eren poses with Armin outside the kindergarten center with Armin as Erwin takes several pictures of them both together and separate. Most of the other parents do the same, but Eren focuses only on Armin and Erwin as he tries to get familiar with the idea of being at school. The flash of the camera annoys Eren, but Armin holds his hand and keeps him stable.

 “You'll be safe walking back home?”Erwin asks for the umpteenth time that morning. I'll see you home right when I get there?”

 “Of course! If we come into any trouble, I'll protect Armin!” Eren boasts and pounds his fist over his heart with pride.

 “But what of yourself?” Erwin asks to a very confused Eren.

 “Then I'll protect Eren,” Armin replies while the school bell sounds. “I guess we can't talk more. Come now, Eren. I'm sure our teacher is waiting for us inside.”

 Eren nods. “Yeah, race you inside!” Eren yells, but he keeps holding Armin's hand despite darting ahead.

 Armin manages to wave goodbye to Erwin before Eren sprints to class while dragging Armin behind him. Erwin never told Armin which high angel he entrusted to be Eren's first teacher, but he has a suspicion of who could handle Eren at his current age. Armin seats himself by Eren quickly without searching the teacher because he keeps his focus on seeing if his friend is comfortable.

 Armin can see Eren recognize faces like Jean, and Marco, but Eren ignores them and tries to pretend they do not matter. Eren still does not like Jean too much, but he is mostly worried about upsetting Marco again, Armin can tell, so the blond leaves the idea of socializing rest. Only when Eren notices Franz sitting in the back and Thomas walking in does he go tense and angry.

 “H-hey, I'm here. Don't bother with them right now, they're really not that much of a concern,” Armin coos, rubbing circles on Eren's hand as he holds it. “The teacher will be here soon, so let's just sit an be qui-”

 “Hello, class of 2015!” exclaims a taller woman as she bursts in the room, carrying bags of toys and school supplies. Armin guessed right. “I know you little kids don't know what that means exactly, but in simple terms it means congratulations on starting your path to learning and adventure! And what better way to start an adventure in school than with me, Miss Hanji!"

 “Hello, Miss Hanji,” the class welcomed in a reasonably timed chorus. Eren missed the social cue, but he mumbled it quietly to himself.

 “Since you guys are new to all of this, I figured the best way to get cozy is for friendly introductions. You don't have to say much if you're shy, but feel free to be open and polite.” Hanji beams youth and joy. “Raise your hand to say something, and I'll point on whose next until I learn every name.”

 Armin notices the entire class enjoys the eccentric approach, but no one feels as open up. Eren glances at him, but Armin shies and shakes his head. “No way,” the line whispers to his friend. “You go.”

 Eren sighs and raises his hand. Hanji's faces changes to surprise then a wider smile as she points at his lone hand. “Excellent! Sit or stand if your comfortable. Say your name and whatever else you'd like to mention about yourself, like your likes or family or anything.”

 Eren slams both hands on the desk and rises proudly. “My name is Eren Jaeger! I like my best friend Armin and going on adventures with him! I want a dad like Armin's for my family, and to eat macaroni every night!"

 Armin can hear the exclamation marks of Eren's words and had to lean away to protect his hearing, but the words hit him hard nonetheless. Armin grabs Eren's hand when they sat back down and smiled kindly at his friend. Armin wants to scold Grisha so much, but he just focuses on Eren.

 Armin raises his hand to go next, but Hanji calls on someone behind him instead.

 “I'm Jean Kirschtein, and I like sleeping and eating all the good food my mom makes. Marco's my friend. I also read an entire book by myself once.” Jean announces to the class, many of them awing.

 “That's nothing. Armin reads books all the time! He can probably outread you like a bazillion times!” Eren counters, scowling at Jean. “Armin's way more amazing.”

 “Now, now, Eren, let Armin talk about himself. I think he wanted to go next, right?”

 “R-right.” Armin stands and tries to smile to the class. “My name is Armin Arlert. My best friend is Eren, and I like making sure he doesn't get hurt on our adventures. And I really have read a bunch of books. My favorite is the new Harry Potter one, and it's this big,” Armin announces as he holds out his hand to show his index finger and thumb parted to the max. 

 The class releases a bigger aw, and Jean stays quiet at that, just glaring at the Armin and Eren silently to himself.

 The rest of the class becomes more open with introductions, but Eren ignores them. Armin sneaks out a sheet of paper and a pencil, so the rest of introductions he and Armin sit playing tic-tac-toe. Armin wins 19/23 matches, mostly because he thinks crushing Eren completely would hurt his fragile child ego.

 “Okay, class,” Hanji announces when everyone finishes. Normally recess would wait a little longer, but since you all behave so well and finished introductions early, you get an extra ten minutes to play before lunch. Follow me outside in line.”

 The class cheered and rushes to the front of the room, not in any remote order or pattern, but Hanji shrugs it off. She never understood why standing in a line could be so hard, but no one seems to be pushing or being mean, so she leads them to the small playground outside. The kids abandon all order and chaos ensues as children try to be first on the swings or down the slides.

 Eren tries to be old of the wild children, but Armin scolds him and demands he behaves. Eren sighs and walks to a hopscotch area no one bothered with.

 “Can I do this?” Eren asks, arms crossed and huffed up.

 “Sure, you want to go first?” Armin has the courtesy to ask, but he knows the answer already.

 Eren steps on the first number as his starting point, then second point he wobbles on. Eren jumps get smoother on the third and fourth squares, but then when he's mid-jump going to the fifth Eren falls to the hard ground.

 Eren hears a laugh, and his anger soars. “Hey, that hurt!” Eren yells, feeling pain in his leg and the palm of his hands where he tried to catch himself, but not noticing he is bleeding in those areas.

 “You can't hog Armin to yourself. I'm still hurt from yesterday because you're crazy, and we won't let you keep nice Armin for yourself!” Thomas pushes Eren again, but he looks scared and unsure to Armin.

 “Stop it! He's not doing anything wrong to you guys!” Armin defends as he rushes Eren's side.

 Armin is too late to quell the situation, but as he goes to Eren Thomas accidentally pushes him instead. Armin has no time to brace himself, and the fall hurts as he lands on his entire left side.

 “YOU!” Eren bellows. “You NEVER touch Armin!"

 "W-wait, no! I'm fine, Eren!” Armin shouts in vain. Of course Armin feels the pain, but if Eren thinks someone hurt him he would cause double the pain at minimum. “Eren!”

 Thomas release a strangled scream when he sees Eren's pure fury. Teeth sharpened and hair jagged across his face in a longer me deranged cut, body bunched over yet taut and ready to pounce. The sight chilled Armin more than Thomas.

 “Eren . . .” Thomas and Armin both murmur with different levels of panick, words falling of deaf ears. Eren's small hands, looking large by extended nails, wrap around Thomas' throat and give a warning squeeze before Eren opens his mouth and bares sharp fangs near to Thomas' collarbone. Armin sees four small horns piece through the back of his skull and hide behind tuffs of his dark hair. Eren's skin may have turned darker or more reddish, but Armin can only see he back of his neck and cannot confirm that.

 “Eren!” Armin shouts as he jumps on Eren's back and pulls them boll tumbling backward. Thomas scurries away the moment Eren's releases hold on him, and Armin knows he intends to report Eren.

 Eren coughs and sputters, gagging on what seems like air. Armin rolls over to his stomach to push himself up on his knees to exam his friend. Eren's teeth and nails are retracting back into the tender flesh. The scuff marks on Eren's hands and knees close with Eren's skin literally crawling over and trying to repair it's normal form. Eren screams loud enough for the entire playground to hear when the horns recede back into his head.

 Armin remembers the pain of transforming, especially the first time. Armin _knows_  reaching out to embracing Eren or holding his hand will not ease the pain, but still reaches out for Eren.

 The touch burns Armin, but he ignores the irritation as he comforts his friend as well as try to stop him from flailing too much. Eren' tears fall onto Armin's arm and hands, and his own eyes water at thought of Eren in such agony.

 “Eren, Eren, I'm here. I understand. I understand, and you'll be okay.” Armin's grip stays firm but easing, and Armin can tell Eren is coming into his own again. “I won't leave you ever.”

 “No, no!” Eren fights, gaining the strength to break out of Armin's hold. “No, I just want to go!”

 Hanji came running to them, only seconds away from reaching Armin and Eren, but Eren rushes away. The child breaks past a loose part in the fencing, faster than anyone else can pace in human form.

 “He's, he's . . . Armin, we can't let him be alone in this state,” Hanji notes with concern and fear. The other children look shocked and few continue playing carelessly.

 “He won't be alone. I'm going to help him. It isn't his fault. He's stupid and young and problematic, but that's not Eren. I'll get him back.”

 Hanji bit her lips. She mouthed the word ‘go’ to Armin before turning to the general students and urging them to return to class. 

 Armin dashes after Eren, and even though time has passed, Armin knows where his young brain would lead him even without his angelic senses.

 Little legs sprint continuously and without consequence, determined to reach their destination as soon as possible. 

* * *

 Armin swallows a large breath of air when he finally reaches the park, but his job continues. As soon he releases that same breath he sprints again. Armin can feel Eren close, but he refuses to slow down any longer despite running's toll on his feeble body.

 Then Armin sees Eren, sitting on the second swing to the right, knees to his chest and hands clutching at the chains for support. Armin's need for air as he observes the heartbreaking sight. Armin does not run, does not call out to Eren; he just approaches him with the most friendly expression he has on his face.

 “Eren, I'm still right here with you,” Armin states, standing right in front of Eren.

 Eren peeks his eyes over his knees to see Armin, then tucks away again. “Go away! I'll hurt you.”

 Armin wraps his arms around Eren and kisses the top of his head. “No, you won't. The real Eren wouldn't ever hurt me. That back there, it wasn't you. It wasn't you,” Armin cooed.

 Eren does not fight Armin's embrace and just let's himself weep a little more freely. “It was,” he murmured. “I'm-I'm different, Armin. I'm bad!”

 “No, no. People in their natural have bad traits, but they're beautiful and good deep down, each one. That's why angels protect them and help them unleash all their goodness to the world. If you think you're bad, then your angel is probably feeling so disappointed for letting you down because your angel sees all the good in you. You need to see it, too.”

 “What good?” Eren asks, looking right at Armin. “My angel should give up.”

 “You really have to ask? Eren, you're amazing. You'd do anything to protect someone, you're honest to everyone, you share your desserts with me even though I know you want it all, you genuinely thank others when they help you, and just so much more, Eren. Only monsters are incapable of not doing things like that. So tell me, Eren, are you a human or a monster?”

 Eren stares at his hands; they look like typical five-year-old hands. _Human_ , five-year-old hands. Hands with potential to destroy block towers and to build Lego cars. Hands to color outside the lines and fling macaroni at Armin during dinner. Hands to push Armin on the swings and hold Armin's own hands. Eren likes his hands. Eren has truly human hands, and he knows the answer to Armin's question now.

 “If I'm not a monster, can you push me high on the swing?”

 Armin grins and nods his little head. “Always! Hold on tight, okay?”

 “Okay! Thanks, Armin!” Eren rejoices and hugs Armin so hard the blond almost falls to the ground. “The other angel should still quit. You're the best angel a kid can have!” Eren lets go and jumps back on he swing seat. “Push me higher than the sky, Armin!”

 Armin does. The worries each had minutes ago dissipate. For the time being, they are both two children having fun, and that is all they really need to understand. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Both Grey and I hope that you enjoyed this chapter. We can't wait to bring you the next one! Thank you so much for your patience while we put this chapter together around two insane life schedules. Feel free to tell us your thoughts on the story thus far. - Doll


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